Safe

Twenty Two

         Something was buzzing. Nike ignored it and pulled her pillow over her head, biting back a curse when her foot struck the end of the bed. The buzzing continued for minutes and despite her best efforts, Nike found she couldn't ignore it so she felt around for her phone and turned it off without even looking at it.
She didn't need to look to know who it was.
At around noon, she got out of bed, finally too hungry to ignore her stomach's protests and shuffled into her new kitchen where she opened a fresh carton of juice and guzzled it straight. Never mind it was her third carton of juice in two days or that she'd already been living in her new apartment for a month and still hadn't unpacked her belongings.
She rustled up a late breakfast of fried rice leftovers from a new place she'd discovered and adjourned to the living room where she turned the air conditioner on and burrowed into the couch to continue binge watching 'The 100' on Netflix while she ate.
By the time she finished three episodes, it was well past three in the afternoon and the complex was starting to come alive with the sounds of children returning from school. The thing about her new place was, it was located right in town in a building mostly occupied by families with little children. It irked her that her dream place had come with the burden of screaming children she had no choice but to deal with.
She hissed as she got up to yank the blinds closed and stretched languidly as she considered her next action. After some deliberation, she decided a shower was in order and returned to her room where she had to spend almost ten minutes searching for clean, acceptable clothing in her luggage which still sat strewn across the room.
With only her bathroom set up, showering was much easier than getting dressed and after expending all her energy on struggling with her bags, she needed time to recuperate. Time she spent on the couch in front of the TV, right where she'd spent most of her time in the past weeks.
For dinner, she had the rest of her juice and a sandwich she invented from the limited resources of her almost empty refrigerator. She needed to get groceries. Her laundry also needed to be done and she needed a good stroll to break the endless cycle of couch surfing that she found herself stuck in but everything was too hard, and too tiring. Picking up after herself took so much energy that she'd given up altogether on having a tidy flat though she knew she'd have to go out the next day or starve. With a tired sigh she sat and started making a list of food items and utilities she needed to buy. She tore the sheet off the notepad and tucked it into her wallet hoping she'd have enough will power to actually do her shopping the next day.
She fell asleep in front of the TV again.
           The next day, Nike dragged herself out of bed and into a semi decent outfit–jeans and a black T-shirt she had fished out of her laundry bag and drove to the nearest supermarket which thankfully was only a few minutes away due to her new, advantageous location. There she took her time filling up her trolley.
"Eggs, milk, bread, butter." She muttered to herself as she went, trying not to forget anything.
"Crap! Almost forgot the fish!"
She backtracked to the frozen food isle where she found the fish she wanted and got tempted by ice cream and a bag of shrimps she didn't even need.
It took a while to load all her purchases into her boot and she sighed as she worked wishing she didn't have to be in the harsh September sun. She'd left early enough so that she'd have time to finish before her neighbours came home and she actually had to interact with human beings.
Laden with as many bags as she could carry, Nike took the stairs up to her second floor flat where she found an unpleasant surprise at the door. Of it's own volition, her face collapsed into a frown as she stood opposite the last person she wanted to see, regarding them silently.
"What do you want." She sighed. They moved aside to let her open the door and followed as she went in. Nike dumped the bags on the kitchen counter, turned right around and went back down to get the remaining bags.
"You could have helped." She frowned as she kicked the door shut behind her before starting to look through the bags and putting things away.
"Are you just going to act like I'm not here?"
No response came and the intruder gave a heavy sigh.
"Really? This is where we are now?"
Still no reply. Nike tore open a pack of cookies and hopped on the kitchen counter to devour them.
"I was wondering how long it would take Hameed to crack." She said between bites.
Hannah sighed again and leaned against the counter.
"Why aren't you answering your phone?"
"If I'm not answering, it means I don't want to talk to you."
"Well, your parents are worried about you. I am too."
Nike rolled her eyes.
"Didn't seem like it when you were ignoring me."
Hannah sighed as if she was out of patience. "Nike you insulted your older sister. You needed to see you were wrong!"
"I apologized didn't I? Now please leave."
"No! Nike, you're not fine! Look at you. Your eyes are the size of watermelons!"
"Look Hannah. I don't have time for this. You need to leave."
Hannah scoffed, "so you can do what? Live in your pajamas?"
"Yes, actually!" Nike answered and jumped off the counter.
"Tell your people I'm fine." She said as she hedged Hannah towards the door.
"I'm not going to lie for you. Whatever this is, you need to figure it out and come home!" Hannah told her at the door. With a sardonic "yes mum", Nike shut the door in her face.
She could hear Hannah banging on the door and shouting as she took her cookies into the bedroom. The noise didn't worry her, Hannah wouldn't want to upset the other occupants of the building.
    In hindsight, perhaps Nike should have been a bit nicer to Hannah or at least shouldn't have kicked her out because it was exactly three days later and Nike was sitting across two very pissed off police detectives who despite their obvious desire to wring her neck, sat semi calmly and pegged her with evil looks.
She'd already been sitting for over five minutes with no words uttered by anyone in the room and she really wanted to know the purpose of the great, unscheduled meeting that had required her to find a clean shirt but she wasn't going to speak first so she sat and stared back at the two men.
For lack of entertainment, Nike began to drum her fingers on the desk between them, humming a melody along. Detective one's eyes travelled from her face to her fingers and back to her face before his frown morphed into something so sinister that the tapping immediately stopped.
           Just as Nike was going to open her mouth and confess her sins, the door opened and a small, dark woman carrying a file walked in. The two men stood to shake her hand and receive her while Nike looked at the newcomer and tried to determine her role in the matter.
Her questions didn't linger for long.
"Miss Makinde, this is Dr Alonge. She's a consultant psychiatrist at the University College Hospital and will be sitting in on our conversation. Is that okay?"
Upon hearing the word psychiatrist, Nike let out a short, strained laugh and began to shake her head.
"Most certainly not! Why do we need a shrink? There's nothing wrong with me. Unless she's here for one of you." She retorted.
"Dr Alonge, pleasure to meet you." The woman said in greeting, extending her hand to Nike who looked at it like it had only two fingers and huffed in response.
Her companions sat and one of the detectives informed her the conversation would be taped before placing a device on the table between them.
"Miss Makinde, a few days ago, we received an anonymous tip that you've been in contact with one of the remaining members of the organization we're currently pursuing. Is this true?"
Nike looked from the man who'd spoken to the other two and silently cursed at Hannah in her mind for getting her into such a shit situation.
"No. It is not."
"To be clear, you're denying any contact with a member of the organization in question?" He tried again.
"Yes." Nike sighed.
"We have evidence that states the opposite Miss." The other man pitched in, to Nike's annoyance.
"Who's this anonymous tipper exactly?" She asked, her fingers doing the tapping thing of their own accord.
"We can't disclose that information." Came the reply.
"Come on! It's nothing serious, I just want to know which of the likely snitches I'll deal with first."
The psychiatrist scribbled something down.
"Miss Makinde! This is a serious matter and we'll appreciate your cooperation."
"I already said I don't know what you're talking about." Nike answered with a weak eye roll. She was not in the mood to be interrogated when she could be finishing the fourth season of 'the 100' while gorging on the tub of chocolate ice cream she'd left in the freezer.
There was movement then a photo was slid across the table to her. Nike leaned forward to look at it and sighed.
"What's that?" She asked.
"That, is a photo of a package you received on the fifteenth of June from an anonymous sender. True or false?"
"True."
"Then why'd you pretend not to recognize it?" The second man asked.
"Conversation was getting a bit monotonous. Don't blame me." Nike retorted.
"It seems to me, Miss Makinde that you do not understand the gravity of this situation. You could be charged with obstruction of justice, do you want that?"
"No. I also don't want to be here right now but it looks like I won't get what I want."
The doctor scribbled something else in her notepad and Nike turned bored eyes on her.
"Are you by any chance recommending that they let me go home right now?" She asked.
The woman gave a tight lipped smile that made Nike sigh again.
"This package was traced and was found to have been sent by one Jaiye Lawson, a member of the notorious organization we're currently investigating."
Another photo was slid across the table.
"Do you recognize this man?" Detective one asked.
Nike leaned forward again to look and found she was looking at a photo of Tj that was obviously taken while he hadn't been paying attention. He was getting out of a car that she presumed was his outside a building she didn't recognize and her heart ached. He looked tired, she thought. She'd give anything to take that expression off his face.
"Miss Makinde?" The detective prompted.
"I don't know this man." She answered, making sure to look him in the eye as she did. His eyes told her he didn't believe her words but it didn't matter. She had to sell her tale.
"Are you sure? Or would you like a photo with a clearer view?"
"I said I don't know him. When can I leave?" She asked.
The doctor finally spoke, "Nike, may I call you that?"
Nike served her a pointed glare to which she nodded and shifted in her seat.
"Miss Makinde, we're only asking these questions to make sure all possible bases have been covered. You're not under arrest and can definitely leave whenever you want but please answer honestly."
At her words, Nike nodded, grabbed her purse and stood.
"I'm leaving. Please don't summon me to ask irrelevant questions again. In fact, direct any further inquiries to my lawyer since I'm not sure I should even be here without him."
The shorter detective was at the door in a flash, standing as if to block the path while the other man stood as he began to speak.
"I only have one more question for you, if that's okay?"
Nike started towards the door. "Direct it to my lawyer." She looked down at the much smaller man and scoffed.
"And please move out of my way." He obliged and stepped out of the way to allow her out.
The three investigators stood together, watching her as she left.
She turned the corner and Dr Alonge snapped her folder shut.
"She knows something she's not telling us. My guess is she knows him but is for some reason trying to protect him."
"Protect him?" Detective one's brows furrowed. "Why would she protect someone who abducted her?"
"It's not that unusual. Victims of abductions sometimes develop a misplaced sense of affection for their abductors for a variety of reasons. It's called Stockholm's syndrome." Dr Alonge replied.
"So we can't trust anything she says? Wonderful." Detective two sighed as he sat on the edge of the desk.
"Any news on the man in question?" Dr Alonge asked.
"We've had eyes on him for weeks but he disappeared a few days ago. We're trying to find him."
"You might want to keep an eye on Miss Makinde. He might try to contact her again."
The two men nodded in agreement.
"Thank you for your time doctor. We'll get back to you."
They shook hands then escorted her out of the room.
     Outside, Nike started her car, drove about ten minutes out of the police station premises, parked the car and began to cry.
It was so unexpected that she could do nothing else but sit and shiver violently as tears streamed down her face and a terrible pressure began to build in her chest. Feeling like she could no longer breathe, she fumbled with her belt to get it off and stumbled out of the car.
She wanted to scream, call for help, do anything really but her voice was frozen, stuck in her chest along with the ever increasing pressure that was making her dizzy. Taking deep, useless breaths, she struggled around the front of the car to the side of the semi quiet road, half crawling by the time she fell to her knees at the curb and threw up the meager contents of her stomach.
She made quite a sight to onlookers, stumbling out of a car that fancy the way she did and falling to her knees on the sandy roadside. What few passers-by felt sorry for her did nothing to help out of fear of the worst and she was left there, at the side of the road, clutching her chest and dying slowly.